There’s an old adage: “You can’t tell a book by its cover.” I’ve always found that to be true.
Sometimes the cover art on a book is enough to catch my eye. I’ll check out the back cover, maybe read a page or two, particularly if this is from an author I’m unfamiliar with. In my youth, it was my practice to finish any book once I started reading it, no matter how engaging it was.
With age comes wisdom in so many forms. I discovered years ago that there are not enough hours in the day for reading, so if it doesn’t capture my interest and imagination with a dozen pages or so, I’m outta here.
But people, like book covers, are more than you might imagine at first glance. You have to be aware of perceptions. This week I got a rude reminder of that.
After discovering a local library in a small community not far from home, I reached out to the director to determine if they would be interested in adding my books to the catalog. She was very excited about the idea, particularly when I offered to donate them. So with a copy of the four books in hand, I stopped by one evening after work.
At the main desk was a lady eager to accept the copies. An older woman approached, curious as to what was happening. The employee asked what genre the books were.
“Mysteries. All set in the Detroit area. The three in the series could be considered part mystery, part romance,” I said, pointing to the Jamie Richmond books.
“Romance?” Snorted the older woman who was now beside me. “What would a guy possibly know about romance?”
Normally I’d snap off a quick retort or ignore her. I could have mentioned Shakespeare, James Patterson or Nicholas Sparks as guys who have dabbled in writing romance. But something held me back. Instead I just shrugged and looked her in the eye. “Guess you’ll have to read them to find out.”
She snorted again, but there was a bit of merriment in her eyes. “Guess I will.”
Perceptions. You never know what’s inside the cover.